Hanging By The Thread Of Your Undergarments
by Complementary Colours
Summary: Never had Buford assumed that perhaps he was the one hanging onto the safety of Baljeet's underwear thread. (Implied Buford/Baljeet)


_[ A/N: To all who's favourited, thank you. To all who reviewed so far, __gosh_- I love reading them. (: Thank you ever so much! ]

* * *

_Never had he assumed that perhaps he was the one hanging onto the safety of Baljeet's underwear thread._

Rating: K+

Implied Buford/Baljeet, Buford's side. Baljeet's side lies somewhat ambiguous.

[Note: Quite drabbly, somewhat angsty. Experimental writing style; meaning that grammar, and prose style is quite… strange?]

Phineas & Ferb (Buford and Baljeet) are © Dan Povemire and Jeff "Swampy" Marsh.

* * *

He goes tap tap tap; the fingers of his little nerd, that is, on the plastic keys of his old computer. And all Buford can do is frown and _watch,_ as his nerd somehow manages to _type_ away from him.

He remembered times when it used to be all fun and games: when Baljeet would try to run, but wouldn't run hard enough to actually get away from his own clumsy, bully-hands. And back then, were either to be asked, they would respond that in reality, they both didn't really mind.

Because what happened before was that Baljeet would hang from his grip by stretching underwear, while Buford would dangle Baljeet, who would squirm and yelp until he was let down. Sure, after that he would proceed to give a sharp glare to his bully- but in two seconds flat, he would be all smiles and happy again, running his mouth about fun facts on everything and anything around them while they walked him home. (For the record, Buford never listened to these fun-facts, he'd like to point out. It was purely coincidence that he happened to know the dragon-fruit was known for their dazzling flowers, or that the volume of the jar can be found by "pi times radius squared".)

On days like these, sometimes, they would see the ice-cream truck pass, and they would look at each other before jumping up and down in excitement. Together, they would catch the eye of the ice-cream truck. And on days like these, sometimes, Buford would snatch Baljeet's wallet-_ "You left ya wallet at home,"_- while the latter protested-_ "Oh yeah?! Then what is that you are trying to pay with, Buford?!"_- and wouldn't give it back until the ice-cream truck drove away, and the icy treats were already swimming in their stomaches.

On these days, Baljeet would frown miserably at his empty wallet, while Buford grinned- "I'm a bully, man. Whaddaya expect?". But on days after these, more often than not, Baljeet would then open his locker to find double the amount lost lying on the locker's metal surface. The indian boy would chuckle before taking half of it, going to class and nudging the bully on the ribs.

_( "You miscalculated the change, friend. Are you _sure_ you will be okay for the math test tomorrow?"_ never turned out well. To this, usually the response was a face full of fist, a pocket full of the money that he had failed to return and more stretched underpants from being dangled back home. )

But now despite the fact the fact that Buford's standing, the bully can't feel the touch of ground. _He's_ the one dangling from some odd gravity that seemed to draw him ever so far from the little nerd. He hung on desperately with mean comments and harsh pulls of the boy's chair, causing him to topple over and glare up at Buford before proceeding to ignore him again.

And it was all_ really quite terrifying._

Cos then the boy would go back to his work, daring Buford not to disturb him, because Buford knows if he did Baljeet's eyes would gleam with what Buford could only hope weren't tears. Because hurting him was so the past, and to say he bullied to hurt the little nerd-boy after all this time was debatable.

But alas, the urge was not suppressible and he couldn't help swiveling the nerd around on his chair, forcing on a nasty grin while his heart would hammer in a dangerous race;_ hoping_ the wet gleam wouldn't be there.

Perhaps Baljeet would just knowingly smile, amused, and chuckle at him again.

Perhaps maybe- _just maybe-_ he would exist again.

But the chair turns and- alas- there it was!

His breath hitches.

He can see the gleam in those eyes,

Taste the annoyance in the air,

Hear the suppressed huff in the throat of the small boy in front of him.

Feel the squeeze squeeze _squeeze_ of his heart as the lil' nerd just _glares_.

* * *

The boy swung back to face the computer with his pearly teeth grit.

* * *

At this point, Buford's grin falters; he decides maybe it's time to leave.

And, most probably, he will not come back to-morrow…

Because it's been a_ while_ since the days were the fun and the games could go without harming the more important things in life…

…_and…_

…Baljeet's success really did depend on crazy grades and hard work…

…_and…_

….he really shouldn't hang on any longer cos…

…_well…_

…Buford was just really really heavy.

_(He knew; he'd weighed himself just yesterday.)_

The bully would only drag him down…

… _and down…_

… _and down…_

… _and so…_

He would have to let go of Baljeet's underwear thread.

_(… and hope not to crash at the bottom… )_

* * *

Buford walked out the door, and the rain started coming down hard. On his way home, he passed Phineas's house, and the red-headed boy saw him through the window. Grabbing umbrellas, he ran outside to Buford, holding one out and smiling kindly at the boy. Buford reached out to take it, before seeing that Phineas actually had two- the second umbrella resting beside him. The bully blinked at it several times before frowning, shaking his head, and continued to walk as Phineas stared confusedly after the large boy.

A few blocks later, he stomped a little too hard, and the mud of a puddle splashed onto his legs. A frustrated grumble built up in his throat and he clenched his fists, drawing a leg back, aiming a furious kick at the puddle. His eyes widened as he lost his balance, grappling for the familiar presence of his friend, before landing on his backside.

He groaned, splattered in runny mud.

And all this time he'd had thought he was the cliff, dangling Baljeet from his underwear thread. Never had he assumed that perhaps he was the one dangling from a cliff; hanging onto the weak safety of Baljeet's underwear thread that had always been there.

_Until now._


End file.
